


A Mystery in Scarlet

by Yuzururu



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Murder Mystery AU, Viktuuri Big Bang 2017, cliffhanger ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 06:02:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11247798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuzururu/pseuds/Yuzururu
Summary: Katsuki Yuuri, student of Celestino, is invited to a Murder Mystery party hosted by the Feltsman family. It's an opportunity for him to meet the legendary Victor Nikiforov, although Yuuri soon finds that he's getting more than he bargained for...





	A Mystery in Scarlet

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to @bleulily on Tumblr not only for the amazing idea, but for being such an awesome Big Bang partner! Please go check out her art and the companion piece for this Yuri On Ice Big Bang entry because it's amazing :)

Yuuri had on a pair of scruffy trousers and a white blazer (with a stain near the bottom hem, but nobody needs to know that, besides it’s hidden by the tail of his overcoat) when Phichit came barging into his room like nobody’s business.

“Yuuri, there you are,” Phichit grinned. “All dressed up?”

Yuuri smoothed a hand over the ruffles on his shirt, self-conscious. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“You clean up nicely,” Phichit laughed. “Although I’m pretty sure this party calls for a little more formal wear than your, er, two-piece tuxedo over here.”

Yuuri shrugged helplessly but turned to his closet anyway, a shabby little wooden piece with a door that didn’t close properly. There was a pile of loose clothing on the floor, ones that haven’t yet been sent off to the washing rooms yet. And from the racks...nary a well-trimmed jacket or a starched-collar shirt. He hadn’t thought he’d need it. Being a student pulled from a small family in Japan, being under a tight budget...Yuuri could hardly expect he could afford to attend extravagant parties, much less afford to buy clothing that would only potentially be used for such luxurious scenarios.

And especially not parties hosted by the famous Feltsman family.

Luckily, his mother had the foresight to pack this particular suit that he was wearing now, although it was a little tighter around the sleeves and looser around his middle than he would’ve liked. It was passed down from his father and was perhaps the only piece of formal wear, aside from ceremonial kimonos and yukatas, that his family owned.

Giving up, Yuuri bowed his head. “I don’t have anything else in my wardrobe. This is all I have.”

“Want to borrow something of mine?” Phichit, who came under Celestino’s care, was from a wealthy trade family down in the South-East Asian corner of the world. The Chulanont family were big names in their own right, and controlled a big portion of the fruit and produce traffic that crossed the globe. Any Englishman who wanted an exquisite mango would have to have ordered it from his family.

“Not sure...if that would be wise. Our sizes are...a little different.” It was true. Phichit was limber and slender, all graceful limbs. Yuuri, stressed in his studies and always looking to the kitchen for comfort, was a little rounder in the middle.

Phichit leaned in close, solemn. “We’re there to represent the Cialdini family though. As Ciao Ciao’s apprentices. Surely you don’t want to embarrass _his_ family name?”

 _Yikes_ , Yuuri thought. _I’ll just have to be careful with the first impressions._

“I’ll be fine.” Yuuri grumbled, tucking his shirt in a little tighter. “Nobody’s going to pay attention to me anyway.”

“Fine. Suit yourself.” Phichit cackled and spun on his heel to walk out the door. “Oh but Yuuri, did I forget to mention that Victor Nikiforov is going to be there?”

::x::

As they pulled up to the cobblestone-paved driveway, Yuuri could hardly take in the size of the house before the door at his side of the automobile was pulled open by a butler.

“Welcome, gentlemen,” The butler said, with a flick and flourish of his white-glove adorned hands. “Can I take anything off your hands?”

Celestino handed over his coat and hat. Phichit and Yuuri both shook their heads, and the butler bowed and strode away purposefully. Phichit had to tap Yuuri on the shoulder to remind Yuuri not to bow back.

Yuuri flushed crimson. Old habits die hard, and it’s only been a year since he’d been working at the onsen with his mother.

All thoughts of the alien customs of the rich quickly flew out of his head as Yuuri took in the actual size of the mansion that they had pulled up at.

It looked more like a castle than a mansion, really. The walls were a creamy white of cut marble, run through with veins of dark gray. Pillars stood, weather-worn and towering, propping up the parapets of the mansion. There were windows with glinting, silver-rimmed ledges, too many for Yuuri to even attempt to count. The roofs of the building tapered off into fine points, each making an individual tower, ones that knights would siege in legends of old. Everything was bathed in the warm glow of outdoor lighting, most of which originated from a gushing, field-wide decorative fountain. Yuuri blinked. The fountain’s lighting flickered between a shimmering gold, a royal blue and a rich emerald green…

“Psst.” An elbow to his side brought him out of his reverie. Yuuri was dimly aware that his mouth had been open the entire time, and he closed it consciously, blushing a deeper red.

“Celestino’s off to talk to some of his friends already.” Phichit laughed. “Do you want to venture inside? Or shall we stay out here and have our fun with the garden? I heard there’s an impossible hedge maze around the back.”

Yuuri swallowed. “Forgive me. I feel a little...overwhelmed? Outcaste? Like I don’t belong?”

Phichit studied him appraisingly. “With what you’re wearing, Yuuri, you look like any other rich man out here to have a good time.”  

As it stands, Yuuri was now wearing something much nicer. Crisp black trousers paired with a stiff, white-collar shirt. The shirt was a little stretched, as his stature was wider by Phichit’s by default, but Phichit had come up with the ingenious idea of throwing a waistcoat over the whole thing, so that it slimmed Yuuri’s figure and let him fill out the rest of the suit. A long black overcoat, with twin tails that stopped just above his knees, and a pair of polished Oxford loafers completed the look. Phichit had also managed to convince Yuuri to slip a handkerchief and a pocket watch into his pockets to add a glimmer of gold onto all that black and white.

“Your outfit is perfect. Let’s get to the dancing.” Phichit hooked his arm around Yuuri’s and practically dragged him through the main doors, two massive wings of intertwining mahogany and ivory.

“I would rather go see the buffet first,” Yuuri protested weakly, but it was too late and his feet were on marbled floor and he was shouldering his way past lovers and couples and groups of chattery friends as they swirled in the grand foyer.

“Loosen up! Here.” Phichit tweaked at Yuuri’s tie and then flagged down a nearby servant carrying a platter full of tall champagne flutes. “Drink up, my friend. Who knows when’s the next time you’ll get to attend a Feltsman party?”

Yuuri accepted the flute of champagne and took a tentative sip. The liquor ran like sweet fire down the back of his throat and then bubbled up again, fizzy and cheerful. His mood lifted almost immediately. He took another gulp, and then another, and then another.

::x:: 

The girl in his arms laughed as he dipped her towards the floor and then pulled her up again, tossing her into a quick twirl. Her blue dress bloomed like a flower against the elegant white of the marbled floor. Their feet crossed, footwork weaving, but never tangling, careful to step around each other and not _on_ each other. They drifted and arched, like two planets orbiting each other but never really touching, whirling around the edge of their dancefloor, coaxing a roomful of enamored _‘ooh’_ s and _‘aah’_ s from their audience. Yuuri gave her one last spin and then caught her again, smiling and sending her towards stumbling off to gush about her experience to her jealous friends.

Another flock of girls started to approaching

Within seconds of entering the dancefloor, Yuuri was well aware that he’d stolen the show.

Most of the other dancers had cleared the floor as soon as he’d shown his prowess with pretty much any form of ballroom dance. The waltz, the tango, the cha cha.  He’d pull anyone into his orbit, twirl them, give them a good time and then leave them wanting more. All the rest of the dancers had become mere onlookers, whispering behind gloved hands and laced fans, in part jealous of Yuuri, in part jealous of Yuuri’s partners, all of them waiting for an opening where they could jump in and take their turn.

Yuuri was confident, for perhaps the first time in his life. He came to this conclusion on his own, sluggish and unsure. It might have to do with the flutes of champagne that he’d downed, Yuuri grudgingly admitted to himself. Champagne glasses in their long, slender flutes, the sweet liquid. Yuuri downed them one after the other, in between dances, flagging waiters to grab the glasses and sip at the liquor, until he he’d lost track of how many he drank. The sweet dizziness that came from the champagne, buoyed by the fact that the alcohol had all but relieved him of his inhibitions, had erased his anxiety...all that was just icing on top of the cake.

“Excuse me,” Someone murmured, tapping Yuuri gently on the wrist.

Yuuri smiled, at nothing in particular, swaying on his feet. Now that he’d stopped dancing, he wasn’t quite all that sure what he had to do with his body. Where should he put his hands? Was he standing all ‘gentlemanly and proper’ like Phichit had taught him before they left to the ball?

Yuuri settled for turning, a small quirk of his lips. Sweat plastered his brow; he’d been moving across the length of the ballroom with multiple dance partners, one after the other, after all. A few strands of hair had escaped from where he’d gelled his hair back to get a little bit of a neater look.

A flicker of silver danced in front of his eyes. His vision blurred, and then focused. _I’m drunk_ , Yuuri thought quietly.

“Yes, yes you are.” The man before him had a small smile on his face, and a pair of brilliantly blue eyes. In his hands, he nursed a glass of wine, elegantly cupped with his slender fingers. The man tipped the wine at him by way of greeting, and Yuuri could only stand there and gape like an idiot, his mind reaching for the dredges of _something important_ that he was surely forgetting. Something about blue eyes and silver hair, and perhaps a name that he should know, though the details escaped him even as he tried to grasp the tail ends of his thoughts. 

“I spoke out loud?” Yuuri murmured. “Oh. Oh no.”

“Oh no indeed,” The man in front of him laughed, and it was a pleasant noise. Yuuri wanted to hear more of it. Inadvertently, Yuuri licked his lips, and he saw the man’s eyes flicker down at the motion, before staring resolutely into Yuuri’s eyes again.

“Did you want a dance?” Yuuri murmured, quiet.

“I was going to ask for one, but it seems as if you are at your limits.” The man nodded to Yuuri, who was only faintly aware that he was swaying on his feet. Like some of drunkard thrown out of a bar. How embarrassing. Yuuri’s face went hot, and he was sure if he looked in a mirror, he would be bright as a tomato.

“I can still dance,” Yuuri settled for insisting. “Let me show you-…”

“That’s quite alright,” the silver-haired man said. “The game is about to begin soon anyway. But before we play, may I please have the pleasure of knowing your name?”

“Katsuki Yuuri,” Yuuri replied easily. At least that was an easy question. “And you are?”

“Victor Nikiforov.”

::x::

 Yuuri pushed through the crowd, frantic. “Phichit! Phichit where are you…”

Eventually, he found his friend on the balcony, talking and laughing with two ladies. The balcony overlooked the gardens of the Feltsman estate, but in the darkness of the late evening, Yuuri could only make out a couple of misshapen lumps that might be bushes, and what looks like the glimmer of a pond in the short distance, the moonlight barely skittering off it’s reflective surface.

One of the ladies, the red-head, braced against the metal of the balcony railing with her elbows. She had taken off her gloves and was fanning at her face with one hand, a nonchalant expression adorning her pretty face. It was a decidedly unladylike posture, although from the way she glared at Yuuri, he knew that she didn’t particularly care. The woman next to him, dressed in a startling emerald floor-length gown, was holding herself upright almost regally, and greeted him with a gracious tilt of her head and a gentle nod.

“Phichit,” Yuuri gasped. “Phichit, you never would’ve realized who I met…”

“Ah, Yuuri! Ladies, speak of the devil. The rain story was about him!”

“Oh,” The red-head drew out the sound, finally showing a spark of interest in Yuuri. But before their conversation could continue, and before Yuuri could ask Phichit what the hell he meant by _the rain story…_ the clink of a spoon against the rim of a champagne glass rang out, drawing their attention back indoors. Reluctantly, Yuuri shot Phichit a look that was equal parts excitement and mortification – _we’ll talk later about that rain story, Phichit –_ and all four of them stepped back indoors. They passed a pair on their way indoors, two men sharing a lighter for cigarettes and heading out to the balcony, hands cupped around their mouths to keep the flame from flickering out in the wind. The smell of smoke tickled Yuuri’s nose and he resisted the urge to sneeze. 

Victor Nikiforov stood on the steps in the grand foyer, with a glass of champagne in his hands. His eyes twinkled, and he’d obviously had something to drink, for he stood with a loose and casual manner and smiled at anyone who turned their eyes on him. “I’m here to announce the real reason why everyone was invited today! A murder mystery!”

Phichit nudged Yuuri. “You see that? It’s Victor Nikiforov, the living legend himself! Aren’t you excited, Yuuri?”

_“Katsuki Yuuri, huh?” Victor grabbed Yuuri’s wrist and pressed a bold kiss to the inside of Yuuri’s palm. Yuuri’s heart stuttered and failed. “I’m honored to meet a skilled dancer as you are. Although I regret, I’ll have to dance with you later. I have to go announce the rules of the game that we are all to play tonight. But you’ll join me, Yuuri, won’t you? I promise I’ll give you an interesting role.”_

“Yes,” Yuuri breathed, his face turned upwards to watch the light of the chandeliers catch the silver of Victor’s hair. “I did happen to meet him just now.”

Phichit snickered behind the palm of his hands. “Oh you _met_ him, did you? Care to tell me the details of your encounter?”

Yuuri shushed him as Victor opened his mouth to say: “The object of tonight’s game is murder!”

::x:: 

A ripple of whispers spread throughout the ballroom, though Victor clinked the glass a few more times for good measure. The room fell silent again.

“Everybody calm,” Victor laughed, enjoying the dramatic flair of tonight’s gathering. From his vantage point, he could see everyone, their faces turned up towards him, giving him their rapt attention. He was used to having people looking up to him, having fans, having people who chased doggedly after his every step, trying to get themselves some of that fame and fortune. He’d fixed most of the problem by shutting himself in the Feltsman mansion and devoting himself to literature and gossip from Mila, but it got boring soon, even with Makkachin in there with him. He soon longed to be back among the crowds. And he’d missed having an audience.

Especially with Katsuki Yuuri there, lips parted slightly, enraptured in Victor’s voice.

“Tonight’s game is a murder mystery.” Victor smiled as Yuuri blinked, confused. _What an adorable man._ “Everyone will have their role to play, and everyone will enact their role according to the title that they have received on a slip of paper much like this.” Victor held up a small card, embossed with a golden border.

“After my explanation, waiters will come around and hand them out to their designated guests. There’ll be a role on the back. It’ll say something like ‘nobleman’ or ‘merchant’ or even ‘queen’. A short line of description will come after the title, so that you know what to do.”

“And the aim of the game,” Victor paused, and surveyed the room. The crowd hung onto his every word. Yuuri was blinking up at him and smiling uncertainly. “The aim of the game is to find the murderer. One of these cards will have ‘murderer’ written on them. And your task, whatever it is that you are designated…you go and find information to look for the murderer. Meanwhile, every time this old grandfather clock chimes, the lights will go out – so don’t be alarmed, ladies and gentlemen, for it’s all part of the game – and the murderer will _strike._ ”

One of the ladies gasped and looked like she was about to faint. Next to her, Mila smirked.

“So each time the grandfather clock chimes, one of you guests will be ‘murdered’. Don’t worry, there’s no actual killing involved, absolutely _no_ bloodshed, I promise…you’ll simply be tapped on the shoulder and told to exit the room. If that should happen, please go silently and graciously, lest you ruin the game for others. Of course, whoever uncovers the murderer _first_ gets a fine prize!”

“Are you playing, Victor?” Someone called out.

Victor laughed. “Why of course! Although even I don’t know what card I’ll be pulling. Now, everyone, please await the waiters coming around with your cards, and get ready to perform!”

::x:: 

Yuuri frowned at his card. _Bartender_ , it read. And then, underneath it in cursive lettering: _Inebriation is your greatest tool. Use it wisely._

“What did you get, Yuuri?” Phichit leaned towards Yuuri cheekily and Yuuri pulled away with a frown.

“Phichit! That’s not how you play the game!”

“Aww, come on, we’re best friends, I can trust you right? Don’t tell me you’re the murderer?”

“You’ll find out for yourself,” Yuuri grumbled. He snuck a look at Victor out of the corner of his eye, and caught the silver-haired smooth talker staring straight back. Yuuri ducked his head and flushed.

“Oh la la~” Phichit whispered, earning himself a light smack on the arm. Phichit giggled and weaved into the crowd with a backwards ‘good luck!’ at Yuuri, who stood there for a moment still, wondering if Victor had gotten the role that he’d wanted to play. Sparing another glance at Victor, he saw that Victor had already started to some of the other guests, and was probably already in position. In character.

 _Perform?_ Yuuri huffed. _I can do that too_. Besides, there was still some of that champagne in him yet, and judging by the look of his role, he would be in no shortage of liquor to give him courage tonight. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could use this as a chance to get closer to Victor.

::x::

Victor blinked. The lady in front of him, someone who must obviously be playing a lesser role, had started droning on and on about how she was free for strolls in the park on Sunday afternoons. At this point, Victor wasn’t even sure if she was acting her role or not, or if she really was just trying to bait him into accompanying her on one of their afternoon strolls. The unfortunate byproduct of having Yakov host all these grand parties to keep up the reputation of the Feltsman family was that Victor, from the branch family of Nikiforov and who was there to study under Yakov, would inadvertently get drawn into everything. Yakov didn’t have a son, and so Victor, the closest and youngest relative, was fit to take over the family wealth when Yakov decides to retire.

That meant a lot of hungry sharks after his future wealth.

Victor plastered a polite smile onto his face. “I’m sorry, I simply have to move on from this engagement, for I must go talk to a doctor about my cold.”

The lady looked startled, as if she herself hadn’t realized that she was droning on. She pulled away from him and twittered nervously, gazing around the room for her next victim. Victor smiled, laid a polite hand on her shoulder – enough to make her blush – and moved away from her and deeper into the crowd.

“Doctor,” He muttered. “A doctor, a doctor. Who here is even taking their roles seriously?”

 _There was one, of course_. Katsuki Yuuri had accosted the bar, and was busy chattering away to the patrons of his new ‘business’. The waiters, amused by his antics, kept bringing him real alcohol, along with other mixers, fancy fruits, cocktail glasses, to serve the guests. Victor had half a mind to abandon his role and go chat him up across the bar countertop (which really was just a slab of decorative marble that lined one of the edges of the foyer and used to hold vases and photographs, but Victor had removed those in preparation of the game).

As he watched, Yuuri took the order of one of the patrons with a professional smile and actually reached to grab a metallic shaker. Victor couldn’t help but edge closer, mesmerized, as Yuuri stirred equal amounts of pale liquor with colorful fruit juice into the shaker, throwing ice cubes and a piece of fruit in there, clasping it shut and giving it a few good rattles before serving it into the cocktail glass. It came out a pretty baby blue, complete with a cherry bobbing in the glass. The patron took it with a murmur of thanks and leaned over to whisper something in Yuuri’s ear, which caused his eyes to light up.

Well, after that display, there’s no way Victor would just stand to the side and watch. Victor sauntered up to his curiously talented guest. _First dancing, now bartending? What next?_ Whoever Katsuki Yuuri had come with, Victor was infinitely grateful to Yakov for remembering to include that person on the invitations list.

“You’re quite the talented man,” Victor said, leaning casually across the bar.

“Evening, sir,” Yuuri nodded formally, although an easy grin played across his lips. “What can I get for you?”

“A martini.” Victor decided. “Shaken, and not stirred.”

“Very good, sir.” Yuuri’s got that act down pat, and Victor wrestled his need to find out more about this alluring young man with his inner performer, devoted to seeing that the game is a success. He eventually gave into his curiosity.

“You’re very good at what you’re doing, Bartender Katsuki.”

“I’m well trained,” Came the quick response. The drink was placed on the counter between them. Yuuri’s hands lingered on the stem of the cocktail glass, almost teasingly. Victor resisted the urge to reach across for the drink. He was on Katsuki’s domain right now, and in this game within a game, he was more than willing to play. He waited, patient and eager, heart pounding.

Yuuri leaned closer with a smirk. “Don’t you know that there’s a price for a drink at the bar?”

“Name it,” Victor said. “And I will pay it.”

“I wonder if you’d be willing to part with any…information.” There it was again, that quick swipe of his lips. _Focus, Victor._

“I don’t know what you mean.” Victor had tucked his card away into his breast pocket. Glancing at it once had been enough.

“A little tidbit of a rumor, a whisper here, a murmur there.” Yuuri leaned back, a pondering expression on his face. The martini was pulled back with him, and it was Victor’s turn to lick his lips. “Anything regarding the darker side of town, perhaps?”

 Victor considered. He had a clue, in fact, which was why he was keen on finding out who the doctor was. For that little sliver of information, he’d had to deal with Georgi sobbing dramatically on his shoulder for a good five minutes. Georgi, who was playing a mourning widow grieving for the loss of her husband to the murderer, was way too into the role. After sobbing, Georgi had finally let Victor know that the murderer had supposedly ‘gotten injured in a scuffle’ while trying to kill Georgi’s fictional spouse, which of course meant that the murderer had to visit the doctor.

A hard earned sliver of information, however, meant that even though Katsuki was pulling no punches on his seductive routine, Victor was still loathe to give up the one lead he had over other guests in the game. Victor Nikiforov hated losing.

“Supposedly the murderer had let a few clues loose at his previous crime scene. A little bit of a limp in his plans, you could say.” Victor’s eyes twinkled. Yuuri frowned a little, and Victor could see that the man was on the edge of piecing the clue together when-

 _Gong._ The lights flickered and went out, and the murderer struck.

::x:: 

There was a scream, long and dramatic, but entirely for show. The way it sounded, nobody could really pinpoint where it had come from. As mysterious as the game itself. 

The lights flickered back on, and Victor Nikiforov was gone, along with the drink that he’d ordered. Yuuri blinked, adjusting to the sudden brightness, realized that he was letting a little bit of vodka dribble onto the table. He hurriedly righted his hand and cast around the room.

The guests were disoriented, but it was more from a combination of everyone’s drunkenness, the overall good cheer in the room clashing with the faux-panic that they briefly felt when the first ‘murder’ took place. It made for a heightened atmosphere in the room, the crowd thrumming with energy while they slowly slipped back into their roles. Yuuri too, grudgingly took up another glass and started creating a simple cocktail to entice others to approach the marble bench where he was continuing his role as bartender. In the meanwhile, his thoughts, slow and sluggish and laced through with all the champagnes that he’d drunk not more than half an hour ago, continued to unravel.

_If everyone in the room had a role, then who was Victor? What kind of person is he?_

Someone approached Yuuri and he jumped, snapping on his customer service smile. Another old habit from the onsen. But before the nostalgia and homesickness could really take root in his mind, the woman was leaning forward to study him, furrowed brows, gloved fingers tapping impatiently on the marble counter.

“Your order, miss?” Yuuri asked politely. He vaguely remembered her; the red-head, from the balcony. One that Phichit had been trying to impress, with relatively little success.

“Mila.” The woman tossed out dismissively.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t believe that’s a drink that I can make-…”

“It’s my name, not a drink.” Mila smirked, contemplative but not unkindly. “But on that front, give me something fruity, please. Sweet, to wash the taste of the hard liquor from my mouth.”

Yuuri obliged, digging for the provided ingredients to find a blend of watermelon and strawberry. He smiled a little upon seeing the Chulanont family sticker on the crate that the fruits had come in.

“Not going to grill me for details? Get a little ahead in the game?” Mila asked casually. She’d taken off one of her gloves and was picking at her nails slyly, studying Yuuri out of the corner of her eyes.

Yuuri resisted the urge to squirm uncomfortably, instead busying himself with mixing her drink. It was turning into something pink and slightly frothy, and he wasn’t exactly sure if he was following the right recipe. It’s been years since he’s had Minako to guide his hand in running her bar, after all.

“If you’re willing, I’d like some information on the murderer.” Yuuri said.

“Ah,” Mila rolled her eyes, looking less than amused. “What a bland way to ask.”

“As payment for your drink-…”

“Yes, yes,” Mila waved her hand, but accepted the drink anyway, narrowing her eyes at it. “I understand, that’s just how your bar operates. But the delivery…hmm. I thought you had a little more potential than that, Mr. Katsuki.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know,” Mila took a sip, savoring it, and then turned her deceptively sweet smile on Yuuri. “The way you were making bedroom eyes at Victor Nikiforov.”

Yuuri opened his mouth to protest, but Mila was already turning back to mingle with the crowd again.

“You didn’t actually give me a tip…” Yuuri called after her, before realizing that there was something stuck between his fingers.

A little slip of paper. Yuuri unfolded it.

 _Friends close, enemies closer_ , it read, and underneath: _The hosts are not all that they seem_.

Yuuri rolled his eyes, but tucked the slip into his pocket anyway. Maybe he could team up with someone to beat this game. With every hour that the champagne was wearing off, his anxiety seemed to be coming back to him, and he was rapidly feeling out of his depth.

::x:: 

“You’re the doctor?” Victor Nikiforov was looking mildly disappointed, and Phichit wasn’t sure what to make of it.

"Yes, sir, I am!” Phichit chirped back. “Need some quick-o healthcare?”

Victor hummed contemplatively. “I’m looking for a certain someone who-…”

“You mean the murderer?” Phichit said.

“I-…yes, I suppose you could say that…”

“What, are you the police?”

Victor was, in fact, a policeman. _Damn it all._

“No! I mean, even if I were to be, I don’t have to tell you by any means…”

“Hmmm. Acting particularly shady there, Nikiforov. You sure you aren’t the murderer yourself?”

Victor shook his head, fumbled for his thoughts, frowned. He couldn’t believe he was being one-upped by this chipper student. Phichit stood there casually, hands in his pockets, his eyes flickering through the crowd. Victor couldn’t help but think that Phichit was a lot smarter than he let on, and a lot less willing to divulge information. He cursed himself internally and wished he’d wheedled something out of Katsuki Yuuri while he’d had the chance, in hopes that he could put himself ahead of the competition. Of course, Victor winning the game was already a no-no because then it would make it seem like they’d rigged it for this party. He’d already discussed this with Yakov, much to his disappointment. That didn’t mean Victor wasn’t here to have a good time.

“Could you tell me which patients you’ve seen in the past few days?” Victor continued politely.

“Sorry,” Phichit grinned. “No can do, patient confidentiality and all that.”

 _And here,_ Victor mourned, _were some who took the game too seriously_.

“I can offer you information in trade.” Victor said. “I’ll remind you that those who win the game will get a prize.”

“Great,” Phichit said, looking unimpressed, and Victor wanted to groan. “How do I know that the prize is something that I want? Also how do I know that your information is useful?”

“You’ll just have to trust me on that front.”

“Great.” Phichit said again. “Fine, let me see. You give me the information first, and then I’ll tell you the names of the patients I saw.”

Try as he might, Victor just couldn’t dredge up any information that might be of interest. His shoulders slumped. He’d probably have more luck elsewhere, although he wasn’t quite so willing to let his one lead get away. Also, trying elsewhere meant that he’d potentially have to go talk to that gaggle of stern mothers, waiting to sic their daughters on him, over there. He could see them eyeing him from across the room, chattering to each other behind lacey fans.

“You know what, I’ll tell you.” Phichit relented, and Victor smiled. “But. There’s something that you can do for me in return.”

“Within reason, I’ll see to it that I meet your requests.”

“Alright, so the people I saw within the last hour are: Mila, the little angry Yuri, Guang Hong and your mentor Yakov.”

Victor’s eyes widened. _Yakov?_ The man didn’t often partake in these games, but seeing the size of this party, Yakov must’ve wanted to make an appearance out of courtesy. There it was, his second lead. He was sure Yakov would be able to give him something interesting.

“Alright, so now that I’ve given you information, hear me out for my request?”

Victor turned back to Phichit, his face carefully blank. “Of course.”

“I’m not particularly interested in winning this game, although it’s fun to meet all these people, of course. But, you know what, I know a certain someone who’s night would be made if he _were_ to win this game. New to the party and all that. Wouldn’t hurt to make this night…magical, for him.”

“Who?” Victor could see Yakov talking to people on the fringes of the party, and was getting a touch impatient.

“Yuuri, of course! Katsuki Yuuri. I believe you guys have met?”

Victor had perked up at Yuuri’s name and was now paying more attention to Phichit than Yakov. An impish smile tugged at Phichit’s lips.

“I think you should team up with Yuuri. The two of you would be unstoppable. Plus, you can’t win the game anyway, because then it’d make your family look bad. But if you work with Yuuri through this…all within bounds of the game, of course, Heavens forbid you cheat, but I think Yuuri would simply be _thrilled._ ”

“That-…” Victor looked for words, couldn’t find them, and instead settled for a quick nod. “I believe that’s a reasonable request.”

“Have fun!” Phichit sang, waving him towards Yuuri once more, and even though Victor found himself getting farther away from Yakov and closer to the lone ‘bartender’ in the corner, he didn’t mind at all. He was just turning to find his way back to Yuuri when the lights flickered out and the bell tolled once more, marking the second murder.

::x::

_Victor. Was he the murderer?_

Yuuri had time to ponder over the messages that Mila had left him. For one, there was that message about the ‘hosts’…and so far, the only person that he knew was a host is Victor. And the one line about friends and enemies? Was it something to suggest that Victor was one and the same? His new friend was actually the notorious _murderer_ in this game?

Come to think about it, Victor did seem to be moving through the crowd with some kind of purpose. A determination that wasn’t really seen in any of the other guests. But maybe it was for show? _Why on Earth would Victor want to win his own game that badly?_ The only reason for his determination would be that Victor’s actually the murderer.

And the more Yuuri thought about it, the more it made sense.

If the Feltsman family was hosting this party, and Victor was obviously part of that particular group, then if Victor was the murderer and managed not to get caught, then nobody would get a prize! The guests would still have fun, and the Feltsman family would lose nothing over it! It was ingenious. Yuuri kind of regretted setting up shop so quickly; word had spread about his special cocktails and now his impromptu bar was making quite the ‘profit’. Guests came and went and told him little slips of conversation, all to get a taste of his drinks. Although, Yuuri mused, most of the stuff they were telling him were unusable; most of the ‘information’ that Yuuri was getting was common gossip unrelated to the game, and guests that took their role in the murder mystery seriously were few and far in-between.

He felt a surprising disappointment at that fact. Yuuri had very much been looking forward to playing this game, and perhaps _succeeding._ He’d never liked being in the spotlight, but tonight he was feeling just a little braver, a little more dramatic than most. It might be because of the champagne.

It might be because Victor had noticed him.

Speaking of the man, Yuuri glanced around the room to see him talking to Phichit. The two of them were conversing quite seriously, although Phichit had quite the conspiratorial expression on his face…Yuuri gulped. Whenever Phichit had that mischievous expression on, it was definitely not anything good.

Before he could think of walking over and stopping Phichit from divulging too many embarrassing facts about himself, the lights flickered and went out once more, and the gong sounded once. A second murder.

Yuuri sighed. With the way he’d been paying attention to Victor, and getting non-helpful hints from the patrons of his bar, there was no way he’d know who had been ‘killed’ next in the game.

Or so he thought, because when the lights flickered on, Phichit was gone.

::x:: 

This time, when Victor approached the bar, Yuuri was looking at him with a measure of apprehension on his face.

It could be the fact that Yuuri’s best friend had just been taken out of the game. Or, alternatively, it could be because Victor had invited Yakov over to the bar, and Yakov was now staring sternly at Yuuri, a permanent disapproving frown affixed to his face.

Could be both.

Victor didn’t feel the need to admit that he was – is – partially responsible for the frown that Yakov always wore. Him, and Georgi and Yuri and Mila all together…admittedly, they were quite the handful for the head of the Feltsman family. But still, Yakov was taking each situation in stride and now didn’t even seem fazed when Victor dragged him halfway across the ballroom to meet a pseudo-bartender.

“Yakov, meet Yuuri. Yuuri, meet Yakov Feltsman. He’s the real reason why we’re all having so much fun tonight.”

Yakov drew his lips into a thin line, managed to look slightly disapproving, and stuck his hand out for Yuuri to shake. Yuuri took it and tried not to show how much his hands were trembling. Yakov was, in a sense, to Victor what Celestino was to Yuuri and Phichit, but there seemed to be a vast difference between the easygoing Italian.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Yuuri managed.

Yakov was about to wave him off when Victor laughed and dragged him forward, so that they were in closer proximity to Yuuri’s bar.

“Of course he’d like something! In fact, I would recommend-…”

::x::

“Red wine.” Yakov ordered, looking just a touch bemused. Perhaps it was because Victor was actually lively at one of their events, for once, or perhaps it was because a student of Celestino’s was looking at him with something bordering fear and reverence in his eyes. Yakov sighed. Might as well play along with it, especially if Victor was being so insistent. Really, he wondered what it was that got Victor so fired up about this game that he couldn’t win.

And then he caught sight of how Victor’s eyes sparkled when seeing this Katsuki Yuuri smile, and everything started falling into place.

Yakov wasn’t sure how to feel about it. First, disapproval; drama was never appreciated, especially someone that could alter the public’s perception of the Feltsman family. Second, disappointment; Victor had been Yakov’s most promising student, and to lose him to chasing after someone like Katsuki would definitely be a detriment.

Third, relief; it’s been a while since he’s seen Victor so lively.

Yakov took the offered glass of wine and nodded mutely in thanks. “It’s time I get back to talking business, Vitya.”

“Of course, of course.” Victor smiled at Yakov, but even Yakov could see Victor’s reluctance to turn away from Yuuri. “Good luck, Yakov. We’re playing to win.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, although our previous discussion still stands.”

“Right. Don’t worry, I know the rules.”

“Good.”

Yakov sipped at the glass of wine just as the lights went out and the bell tolled once more, signaling a third murder.

The liquid burned unnaturally as it travelled down his throat.

::x:: 

The lights flickered back on, and Yuuri took a second to blink spots out of his eyes.

Someone was screaming, a high, keening noise that cut through the rest of the chatter. Heads were turning their way, and Yuuri floundered under all the attention. Had he dropped a glass of something precious? Had he made a mistake with one of the cocktails?

In that instant, Victor lunged forward with a yelp, to catch his teacher Yakov as the older man swayed and dropped to his knees.

Silence spread throughout the ballroom as guests glanced around to gauge each other’s reactions. Were they supposed to laugh or cry? Was this all an act,

Yakov was choking, trying to say something, eyes bulging. Victor cried something in Russian, shook the man’s shoulders. Yuuri could see something frothing out of Yakov’s mouth, flecked with crimson. With the wine, or with blood? He couldn’t tell.

There was a moment of hammering panic, indecision, frozen terror shared by everyone in the ballroom. Victor snapped something angrily and two waiters on the edges of the group ran off, one of them hurrying back with a towel to wipe at Yakov’s mouth.

Mila pushed forward through the crowd, footsteps measured and sure and brimming with unspent anger. “What in hell happened, Vitya.”

“I don’t know,” Victor shook his head. “I don’t know what’s happening. All I know is that I brought him over to introduce him to…Yuuri…” Something must’ve clicked in Victor’s mind as he swung his head over to pin Yuuri with a look. It was far from his usual smiles and kindness. His blue eyes were cold.

“Yuuri gave him a glass of wine.” Victor said quietly. “And then this.”

Mila straightened from where she’d been checking Yakov’s pulse. Yakov lay limp in Victor’s arms, eyes turned up towards the ceiling, blank and staring. Lifeless.

Mila’s lips twisted downwards and she surged forward to throw Yuuri into the wall with surprising force, pinning him there and twisting his arms.

“Answers, Katsuki. Now.”

::x:: 

They brought him to one of the private rooms in the estate for questioning, a smaller office no doubt meant to hold accounting records and official parchment. Yuuri was instructed to sit in the leather chair, while Victor and Mila both pulled chairs over from other rooms to sit in front of him. Back in the ballroom, the rest of the guests had been rounded up, none of them allowed to leave, all of them there as witnesses or suspects. The murder mystery had suddenly become very _real._

A doctor had been called and was now tending to Yakov. No news on whether the Feltsman head would survive this ordeal, and that particular anxiety was making Victor and Mila all the more heavy-handed when dealing with Yuuri.

“I don’t know anything about this assassination attempt.” Yuuri pleaded. “I’m not guilty, I promise. I don’t know anything.”

Mila folded her arms. Next to her, Victor wasn’t meeting Yuuri’s eyes, head hanging, silver hair hiding his expression. Yuuri’s heart pounded, throbbed with the tension in the room. He was frantic, not only with the knowledge that Victor blamed him – and quite possibly hated him – for the murder attempt that happened just now, but also because there was a slight possibility that he’d actually had a hand in the crime, knowingly or otherwise, because he’d poured the wine for Yakov to drink.

“Prove it,” Mila snarled, slamming her hand on the table between them. “Prove that you weren’t the one who just _waltzed_ into our estate and then poisoned the head of our family!”

Yuuri wracked his brains for something, anything. Someone who could get him out of this situation? No, his only allies would be Phichit and Celestino, and they’re back downstairs in the ballroom.

One fact, one lead that could persuade Mila and Victor that he was innocent?

“The wine,” He blurted. “The wine was given to me by a waiter. I remember, because he looked surprised at the last minute that I was asking for supplies. It took him an unnaturally long time to get it together, especially when I only asked for some hard liquor, some juice and some fruits. I’d thought that it was because the wine was hard to get, or because he’d had to cut the fruits, but I suppose they would’ve prepared everything for the ball anyway…”

Yuuri trailed off. His own words didn’t even convince him. He swallowed nervously and saw that Mila was tapping her fingers against the wood table again, unimpressed.

“Anything else before we charge you of murder?” It was Victor that had spoken this time, quiet and unrelentless. Even though his head was still hanging downwards, towards the floor, the anger in his voice was barely suppressed. Yuuri would have no ally here, as pleasant as their previous interactions in the evening had been.

“The…uh, the waiter smoked,” Yuuri replied. “I could smell it on him when they gave me the ingredients for the bar.”

Mila narrowed her eyes, and Victor lifted his head. They shared a look between them.

“A lead,” Mila said decisively, standing and heading out of the room. “None of our waiters smoke. Yakov has bad lungs, none of the servants are permitted tobacco or cigarettes of any kind.”

“And neither is our party,” Victor offered. “It was printed, legibly, on the invitation. Someone broke the rules. Or someone snuck in, not knowing the rules.”

“The men on the balcony-...” Yuuri said, the same time Mila stopped and turned to look at him.

“Yes, I remember,” She murmured, before sweeping out of the room, footsteps quicker, more determined.

Leaving Victor and Yuuri alone in the room.

Victor straightened, and Yuuri could see an alarming hollowness in his eyes, where the man had been so bright and lively before.

“I don’t entirely think you’re innocent yet,” Victor admitted, and Yuuri frowned. “But. Judging from our previous conversations…I think you can help me with this. Prove your innocence, catch the murderer. Just like the game.”

Yuuri nodded, heart pounding, as Victor looked him in the eye.

“Team up with me, Katsuki Yuuri. And let us solve this murder together.”

 


End file.
